Fall Out Boy Imagines

Pete - Favorite Record

requested by: me

word count: 1172

band member: pete wentz

era: ab/ap

(doesn't have much to do with records or anything...but i came up with this idea while i was listening to the song)

*

Pete had gotten a text from his bandmate, Joe, two days before the event, and it was totally last minute. Pete had been planning a meeting with Brendon to discuss the new album and all that jazz, you had a doctor's appointment, this, that, and everything piled up and it was possibly the worst time to embark on a road trip...but Joe had to fuck it all with:

Hey, last minute bday party for Marie

Sacramento on Saturday

Please please come--it's a surprise!

Okay, so Sacramento wasn't that far, but it was pretty far, and you had to cancel a few meetings and a doctor's appointment to go celebrate. But you tried to be positive--Marie was a good friend of yours, and, hey, you and Pete hadn't gone on a trip together in long, long time. Heading to northern Cali for the weekend would be a nice little break.

--OoO--OoO--OoO--

The car radio was on full volume, blaring some preppy summer song you hadn't heard before and honestly, you didn't like it too much. The chorus was repetitive, there was way too much synth, and still, you found yourself nodding your head to the beat. Your boyfriend, Pete, let out a deep chuckle.

"And you said you would never enjoy pop music..."

"Hey," you defended, "How do you know I'm enjoying it? I...I could just be nodding my head to the beat because that's what you do with music..."
Pete's eyes flashed over to you and he rolled his eyes, "Sure."

--OoO--OoO--OoO--

You stared down at the tires, kicking up puffs of dirt on the desert road. Your hand rested out of the open window, a cool breeze blowing your hair into your face. The radio switched from Cheerleader to Uma Thurman. You giggled.

"Oh, God," Pete groaned, shaking his head and turning to change the station. As proud of his band as he was, he was never one to enjoy listening to his own music on the radio. You turned your head and slapped his hand away from the touch screen.

"No, no, don't change it."

"Why?"

You shrugged, "It's cool. I love your music."

A smile tugged at the corner of Pete's lips as he turned his attention back to the highway. The song blasted through the small car, travelling out the window and projecting to the lack of people driving alongside you. You hummed along with the chorus and for a second, Pete's eyes flickered away from the road to watch you buzzing and bopping along to the beat. He started dancing too.

--OoO--OoO--OoO--

"How far are we away from the exit?"

Pete hummed lightly, refusing to take his eyes off of the dusty road ahead, and shrugged his shoulders, his lips in a slight pout. "What was the last one we saw?"

"Forty-five--I think," you scanned the sides of the road for any bright green signs, any hint of civilization, "Oh, no, wait--we just passed forty-seven," you sighed, leaning back and rolling your head lazily back to your long-term boyfriend, "Which exit do we get off on again?"